28.
Anita watched Countess Milena, who was lounging on the sofa like a cat. A noblewoman so unencumbered by dignity was a strange sight to her.
“I’ve never met anyone as honest as you, Countess.”
“I believe one must be honest in front of the Duchess. Naturally, the party with the most to gain is the one who shows their cards. I do need to earn your trust, don’t I?”
“Do you need my trust?”
“Of course.”
“And are you someone I can trust, Countess?”
“Undoubtedly.”
“In that case, would you mind if I put that trust to the test just once?”
Countess Milena’s eyes glimmered with interest. Her generally hazy, languid expression regained a vitality it hadn’t possessed before.
“What kind of test are you speaking of?”
“I need you to investigate someone for me.”
“And who might that be?”
“Vlad Mccoy.”
Vlad Mccoy. Her father’s longtime business partner and close friend. The uncle who had doted on Anita like a niece. And the man who had delivered the news of her father’s disappearance to her.
“I need to find out if the Boellony family fortune has become his property. I have a hunch there is a high probability that it has.”
***
The bells signaling noon rang out.
A peal announcing that the time for the long-awaited wedding had arrived. Accompanied by an elder of the Edenbahir family whose name she could barely remember, Anita headed toward the garden.
The summer sky was bright.
*It’s hot.*
Had it not been for the veil covering her face, she would not have been able to keep her eyes open in the sunlight.
*I suppose Claunia couldn’t make it after all.*
She had wanted to see the look of surprise on her face at the news of her marriage to Lancelot. Since it would take at least a week to travel there by ship and train, perhaps the wedding invitation had only just arrived.
The ceremony space set up in the garden was calm rather than flamboyant. There hadn’t been enough time to decorate lavishly, with the passing of Duke Edenbahir still fresh. And so, the wedding had to be kept quiet.
“Anita. When the doors open, walk down with Norman. Lancelot will be waiting in front of the White Road. Please stand at the dais with him.”
Norman, as it turned out, was also assigned the role of escorting Anita.
“Hello, Norman. I look forward to your guidance.”
She looked up at him to offer the greeting, but he made absolutely no effort to meet her eyes. Never.
*I hate to say this, but… this is childish.*
Why on earth did Lancelot set this man up as a stand-in for her father? A corner of her heart felt inexplicably uncomfortable.
*Creak.*
The bells announcing the ceremony chimed three times, and the stone gate erected in the center of the garden swung open.
Dozens of pairs of eyes shot toward Anita, pinning themselves to her. Even with her vision half-obscured by the veil, she could feel the curious gazes of the guests.
The future Duchess Edenbahir. The daughter of a man without any significant title. The woman who could inherit the investment management rights of the Callasgo Trust.
Regardless of the epithet used to describe Anita, the sentiment of the guests could be summarized in a single phrase:
“She hit the jackpot.”
After all, there was no bride in this era who had ascended the social ladder more drastically than she had.
Before long, Norman let go of Anita’s hand. They had reached Lancelot.
*Thump, thump.* Her heart began to race the moment she acknowledged his presence.
Yes, that’s right. I am currently getting married to him. As of today, Lancelot is my…
*Calm down, calm down.*
She caught her breath and swallowed dryly. Perhaps it was because her chest was being constricted by the wedding dress, but it was difficult to maintain a clear head.
He reached out and took Anita’s hand.
It had been a full two days since she had last seen Lancelot. According to Edenbahir tradition, the bride and groom were not allowed to be in the same space from one week before the wedding until the ceremony began. There seemed to be some grand reason behind it, but she couldn’t remember exactly what it was.
Lancelot tilted his head slightly, locking eyes with her through the veil.
Anita asked softly, “What is it? Is there something on my face?”
“No.”
Having denied it instantly, he came to a stop before the dais.
Five bells rang out, announcing that the bride and groom had arrived.
During that time, Lancelot’s head tilted toward Anita once more. His eyes looked profoundly displeased.
“You…”
“Why?”
“…”
“Don’t hold back, if you have something to say, say it. No, please do, Lancelot. You’re making me anxious by holding your tongue in a situation like this.”
Lancelot’s whisper came a beat too late.
“You look pale. You look like you’re about to collapse.”
Ah. So that was all it was.
“I suppose… I’m just nervous.”
His green eyes, full of dissatisfaction, pulled away. Norman, holding a silver sword, and Matilda, holding a scabbard, stepped up onto the dais. The dais stood two spans higher than the ground they were standing on.
Norman was the first of the two to step forward.
With a solemn face, he held the silver sword aloft. He examined the thin blade as if he were a knight, then handed it horizontally to Lancelot.
With an expression of utmost benevolence, he said, “Take good care of Miss Anita Boellony, Lancelot.”
Lancelot looked up at Norman in silence for a moment. He didn’t lift his chin; rather, he looked up with a demeanor that suggested even lifting his chin was a chore.
When Lancelot did not immediately take the silver sword, the atmosphere in the wedding hall began to twist in a peculiar way.
Just as Norman’s face began to stiffen,
*Whoosh.*
Lancelot, gripping the hilt of the silver sword, turned the blade sharply toward Norman’s neck.
“Gasp.”
Norman’s horrified groan echoed unseemly through the garden.
Anita was just as startled. She had thought Lancelot’s silver sword had slashed Norman’s throat. It wouldn’t have been able to cut through the bone, but it was at an angle that would have made a deep gash in the skin quite possible.
Lancelot was warning Norman, right in front of everyone.
Not to dare let his wife’s name pass through those lips.
The second silence, unlike the first, carried a thin veil of tension. Matilda, swallowing dryly, offered a stiff smile as she held out the scabbard, which was encased in ornate relief.
“Lancelot, from now on, cherish and care for Miss Anita Boellony…”
Lancelot snatched the scabbard before Matilda could even finish her sentence.
“I have no need for well-wishes. I shall take the sentiment alone—if, indeed, such a thing even exists.”
Matilda, who had stiffened at his cold voice, managed an awkward smile. At the very least, she seemed more capable of handling the situation than Norman.
*So this is why you called your uncle and aunt here to act as stand-ins for my parents.*
Even so, to display such blatant hostility in front of so many people.
“Miss Anita Boellony.”
Lancelot’s magnificent blonde hair shimmered in the summer sun.
Holding her gaze, he knelt on one knee before Anita. It was an elegant posture that showed not even a hint of excess.
Lancelot offered the silver sword to her.
“I offer my soul to you. Please, accept my sword.”
The silver sword of the Edenbahirs. The symbol of the Head of the House’s purity and soul.
Even knowing it was for show, her breath hitched. If she accepted this silver sword, she felt as though she would truly become one with him—a complete couple.
*…Is it alright for me to feel that way?*
For this one moment in her entire life, could she not allow herself to be swept away by the overwhelming emotion bubbling beneath her chest?
Her fingertips tingled with nerves. Anita bowed her back to receive the sword from Lancelot.
Her back.
Her back…
*Huh?*
Why was her balance wavering?
Was it because her chest had been constricted for so long?
In a fleeting instant, a wave of dizziness hit her like a downpour, and her body tilted sideways.
*Bang!*
It was at that very moment that a chilling, piercing sound rang in her ears.
The world was as silent as if it had collapsed.
From far away, a projectile—undoubtedly a bullet—had been fired toward Anita.
“Anita!”
For the very first time, Lancelot’s eyes, filled with sheer horror, screamed her name.